


Precious

by tirsynni



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins once promised Frodo complete honesty between them.</p>
<p>He lied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious

Bilbo Baggins once promised Frodo complete honesty between them.

He lied.

If asked, he would comment glibly that it was that old burglar in him, or perhaps that bit of Took. No difference, really. Not that anyone ever asked. He was that Queer Master Baggins in his mysterious hobbit hole. Only Gandalf would think to ask, and sometimes Bilbo thought he would. Sometimes a glint would come into the wizard’s eyes when he would look at Bilbo.

Gandalf never asked. If anyone could respect secrets, it was a wizard.

Some secrets he already knew. It had never been said, but Bilbo felt as marked as his door an age ago. Queer Master Baggins, alone in his hobbit hole but Frodo, and Bilbo heard the whispers that no self-respecting hobbit lass would besmirch her reputation by marrying into his odd line. Bilbo knew better. One whisper of his legendary gold and certain lasses would come, as would certain lads. Bilbo was a gentleman, though, and would not name names. Poor Frodo never even thought to ask, never even knew there was a secret to tell.

His dear, sweet Frodo, whom he feared would be buried by some of his old uncle’s secrets.

Like the whisper in the back of Bilbo’s mind when he sat alone in the dark. Like when he found himself by the fireplace with no memory of how it came to be, touching the ring and whispering _My precious…_

Like the fire in his dreams, like the eye he once thought was Smaug’s but eventually learned better.

The eye watched him in his dreams, and Bilbo feared he felt it in his waking hours, as well.

Those secrets neither dear Frodo nor Gandalf knew. He guarded them as fiercely as Thorin had guarded his treasure, and he feared he would share the same fate.

Dearest, dearest Thorin, a secret Bilbo kept not out of shame but out of that same greed. A secret he knew Gandalf knew, even as it never entered the stories they shared over tea and a warm fire. He had never told it to Gandalf in words but once in tears, huddled away from a smoking battlefield and covered in blood. Gandalf had held him as he wept, and Thorin’s blood had stained them both.

Thorin, who remained with him even as fire roared in his dreams, whose stern words drowned out the harsh whispers, whose phantom hand stayed his when all he wanted was the ring clutched in his palm.

It was the greed in Bilbo’s heart for those ancient memories which kept him silent, hoarding his secrets like the Dwarf King had once hoarded his gold. It was that same greed which kept him seeking those memories rather than the shadowy obliviousness offered by the ring.

In the end, it was that same feeling which allowed him to leave the ring to visit Thorin’s final resting place one more time.

He kept that secret from Frodo until the very end, and he never had to explain the difference between greed and love. Ever since his tears had dried and he had returned to the Shire, Bilbo had never been able to differentiate between the two, even to himself.

It was Thorin’s final legacy, and it was Bilbo’s most precious possession.


End file.
